Paper Cranes
by Extrinsical
Summary: Kurosaki Ichigo died when he was twenty nine.
1. I

Disclaimer: Do not own, spoilers abound, and unbeta-ed.

.

_**Paper Cranes**  
>I<em>

_.  
><em>

"Fool of a boy," she had said, cold and harsh. "Do you really understand that _little_?"

Those words stung him into silence.

_(Rukia - )_

_._

Kurosaki Ichigo died when he was twenty nine.

When his eyes opened, the first thing he saw was his body (wrapped with bandages) that was lying on the bed, connected to various tubes and the machine that went, _beeeeeeeee-_

He just sort of stared and went, _oh, I died._

The second thing he saw was Rukia perched by the window grills of his hospital room, one leg dangling mid-air as she leaned against the wall.

He couldn't tell what was the expression on her face; she was looking out the window (and didn't seem at all bothered or annoyed by the shrill sound of the machine like he was), and the grey-ivory light of the early morning was soaking into her skin and black shinigami robes.

She looked like she had been waiting.

And for some reason, he hesitated in speaking. He hadn't seen her since the time he completely lost all his powers.

"It's been a while, Ichigo."

_(a decade or so.)_

Her words were soft. He couldn't tell if she was happy or sad - he could detect something _strange_, but it was unreadable.

"Rukia -"

And before he could say anything else, the door was shoved open with a doctor and nurses rushing in.

The noise and buzz that they were making while they tried to revive _him_ felt strangely muted as he stared at his own body three steps away from the bed; the doctor pressing his locked hands to his chest, _pushing_, and, "Don't die on me now, boy! Breathe, damn it. You're too young to die, you hear me? _Breathe_!"

He hadn't even noticed Rukia removing herself from the window grill.

"Do you remember what happened?" her quiet voice drifted towards him.

Ichigo tore his gaze away from the bed - _his dead body_ - to her.

She was eyeing him with unreadable dark violet eyes that bordered on blue that he hadn't _seen_ for the _longest time_.

It took him a moment to remember her question, because he could feel his breath catch at the sight of her. _Rukia_.

He forced his mind back to reality (_he's dead? he's dead dead - Rukia - )_.

"A fire," he said vaguely. He couldn't quite recall what happened, exactly though, aside from scorching heat, running through a hot blaze, and feeling the smoke suffocate him.

"You died a hero for a couple who is grateful to have their daughter safe and sound, Ichigo."

Oh.

He felt himself swallow, throat strangely dry even though he shouldn't be feeling it. (Or should he?)

"Well, I - "

Rukia sighed, softly, and it was enough to make him pause. Her eyes closed, momentarily, and she ran a hand through locks of ebony hair, as if world weary and resigned both.

Then she looked at him again, a hand moving to rest on the handle of her sword like it was an unconscious gesture that she had repeated thousands of times -

"You are a fool, Ichigo," she said. This time he _did_ detect a sad undercurrent in her voice.

But it wasn't as if he could react at all, because by the time he noticed, Rukia had already connected the end of Shirayuki's hilt to his forehead.

"Wha - "

A bright, white light engulfed him.

And he knew no more.

_一_

Smoke and ashes wasn't a scent that she had come across very often - at least, not when it came from cigarettes. It was one of the strange human customs she had regarded with distaste. Far be it for her to understand a human's addiction to something as foul-tasting as that, despite all that she had learned about it through the materials she had read.

But, even so.

She had been surprised when she first smelled it off Isshin as he sat himself on the chair - next to his son's bed. With arms crossed as he leaned against it and stared up at the ceiling.

Isshin had been smoking.

The idea of the older Kurosaki smoking confused her. She honestly could not recall a time when Isshin had lit a cigarette, and Rukia wondered how often he did so.

Did it start after she left Karakura? Before? She supposed she wouldn't know - it had been past a decade since she last saw him, after all. Whatever happened between then and now, or even before and in the future, had nothing to do with her.

That didn't mean she could stop herself from wondering if it was something he had picked up after seeing the condition of his son, however.

The thought made something in her clench.

"Rukia-chan."

The sound of her name startled her, and she glanced up to look at Isshin, surprised beyond words.

He was staring at her, his expression light, a corner of his lips upturned.

"Come here," Isshin beckoned with a hand, patting at the chair beside him. "Sit beside me."

Her mouth opened and closed.

She stared for a few more seconds as his smile grew.

It was another few seconds before she was composed again.

"You can see me? Kurosa - "

"Call me Isshin," he said firmly. Then he waggled his eyebrows. "Or daddy, if you prefer, my third daughter."

Her lips twitched.

He patted at the chair again, a silent request to come over.

The man who was usually exuberant was nowhere to be seen, instead replaced by a calm, gentle nature that reminded her of her captain, Ukitake. Not gentle _gentle_, but it was a fatherly look, and Isshin - she suddenly remembered - was a _father_.

She had no idea Isshin could look like that.

Rukia hesitated for a moment, but glided down from the window she was perched on, her sandaled feet pressing to the floor soundlessly - and obediently sat beside him.

The Shinigami glanced at the bed where Ichigo remained asleep and motionless, his breath light and _almost_ non-existent, tubes of all sort attached to him, and the rhymetic beep that came from the strange machine -

And looking at him like this again made her want to curl her hands into tight fists.

"You must have questions," Isshin said lightly.

She did.

"But, will you hear my request first, Rukia-chan?"

He wasn't looking at her any longer, eyes now set on his motionless son.

His gaze didn't give anything away. Isshin looked thoughtful, the corner of his lips remained upturned, but that was it.

Yet Rukia couldn't help but feel that Kurosaki Isshin knew his son wasn't just dying.

He knew Ichigo_ will die._

Why else would he ask a favor from _her_, a shinigami who had nothing to offer the living world, much less one who had not seen his son for the longest time, and one who was here to _greet his death_?

She could feel something in her twist, and all she wanted to do then was hurl items at _Ichigo_ and rant at him for being so, so _stupid_ -

Her eyes closed, and she breathed in; reigning in her temper.

She was startled when a large and warm calloused hand landed on the top of her head.

It was both reassuring and calming.

And she was vaguely reminded of _Kaien_, then her brother, Renji -

_Ichigo_.

Only, this one was so much more - _fatherly_. It made her heart stir strangely. Was this how a father's _presence_ felt like?

It was odd how this bothered and comforted her at the same time. She was a shinigami. A _Kuchiki_. And a soul that was well over a century old; old enough enough that memories from her earliest years were vague and blurry.

"What will it be, Rukia-chan?" Isshin asked gently, shaking her out of her reverie.

She hesitated, glancing at the motionless, sleeping boy again; and suddenly aware that Ichigo was so much younger - twenty-nine, by Soul Society's standards, was still just a _boy_.

A foolish, naive, _idiotic_ boy.

And she owed him her life, and so much more.

She inhaled, deeply.

"Anything," Rukia then said, tone soft but full of promise. "So long I have the power to fulfill your request - consider it done."

The slight smile on Isshin's lips grew by a fraction.

But to Rukia, it looked _sadder_ than she had seen from him the entire time he was here.

"You might regret saying that so quickly, Rukia-chan."

Isshin's words were weary, somber, and amused all at once.

And yet it made her feel as if ice - ice that felt more like _snow_ - was melting into her skin.

He was silent, for a long moment, and Rukia recognized it as a cue for her to back out. If she wished to.

But she really hadn't even needed the moment to decide what she would say next.

After all, she wasn't just Rukia.

She was _Kuchiki Rukia_.

"Once given," she said quietly and unwaveringly, "my word is final."

It was Isshin who inhaled, this time, as if he expected and did not expect it both.

"Kuchiki to the bone," he murmured, and Rukia could detect both pride and sadness in that soft tone.

It made something in her twist.

_一_

Her hand - the one that gripped Shirayuki tightly - was trembling.

She breathed in, slowly, and sheathed her sword.

From the corner of her eyes, she could see the doctor shaking his head, running a tired hand through his hair, and sighing.

"Time of death - 6:52 AM."

Complete silence enveloped the room, the machine with the never-ending shrill sound turned off moments ago.

Slowly, the doctor and the nurses - that worked frantically moments ago - filed out of the room.

And Isshin stepped in.

Rukia eyed him, for a moment - and again, his expression gave away nothing - before she turned to look at the still body lying on the bed. _Ichigo_.

It was as if something was squeezing her heart so tightly she thought it would _die_.

"It's done," she said quietly, breaking the silence.

A large, warm hand landed on her shoulder.

It was both comforting and _heavy_ - heavy enough that she thought she'd be _crushed_ by the _weight_ -

"Thank you, Rukia-chan."

She closed her eyes.

She didn't cry.

_-Part I End-_

* * *

><p>AN: Hmm. I never thought I would drabble in the Bleach fandom. But I guess I just did.

If this first chapter feels a little rough around the edges, it probably is. It will probably take a bit of time for me to reconcile my writing style with Kubo's style. But, we will see how it goes. I'm also fairly concerned about characterization - I am _loath_ to make them ooc, even if I'm writing them for the first time - so, should you encounter any oddity at any time and anywhere in this story, please do not hesitate to tell me.

Cheers.


	2. II

Disclaimer: Do not own, spoilers abound, and unbeta-ed. And it slipped my mind to say this earlier, but. Updates will probably be pretty random and sporadic from this point on.

_._

_**Paper Cranes**  
>II<em>

_._

When he woke up, the first thing that came to mind was, _it's too bright._

He covered his still-closed-eyes with a hand, away from the light that made it hurt.

A hand that felt strangely small.

He blinked – once, twice – and watched the blue sky through the slits between his fingers, registering everything and nothing all at once.

He sat up.

Looked around.

Registered the various old huts – some of which that looked half-dilapidated and near broken – and the occasional people who walked by, giving him a glance and nothing more.

He blinked some more.

Where was he?

He stood, and his footing was shaky, for some reason; as if they hadn't been used for quite some time.

His legs looked strangely thin and small.

Smaller than he expected.

And everything around him felt so much _bigger_ than he _thought_ it would be.

What was this place?

He ran a hand through his hair – soft, spiky locks that felt familiar and unfamiliar.

And he looked at his hands, again.

Hands that were small.

And he couldn't help but wonder, all of a sudden.

Who did these hands belong to?

_一_

"You little brat – !"

He ran.

In his small hands was a bread – stale bread – but it was food, nonetheless. And that was good, because he hadn't eaten in a while, and it was beginning to make him feel sluggish.

He wondered how was it that he could run so quickly (and he wasn't out of breath yet).

It confused him, because when he had observed some other kids – kids that looked as small as him – while they stole food and ran, they eventually ran out of breath as they scampered away from the furious store owners.

There were times, as well, when some of them almost got caught.

He had felt the urge to run forward and help but...it turned out he didn't have to, because they did escape in time.

Still, he owed those nameless kids for teaching him how to obtain food efficiently.

And he was a fast learner, sometimes improvising on the move.

No one could catch him.

It made him grin.

And he ignored the feeling of a large, gaping hole in his chest because he didn't understand why or how it came about.

Why was he even feeling it?

_一_

There was someone watching him.

He could feel it in his _bones_.

It made him jerk his head around warily, searching for that someone.

The first minute, he wondered who this someone was.

He didn't feel safe, especially since everything about his surroundings – from the people to the place – screamed _danger_.

The second minute, he wondered if the people he stole food from had tracked him down.

The third minute, he gobbled up the remaining food he was holding and ran.

And the next thing he knew, there was a large, humongous ugly white creature in front of him, _snarling_, and he was _terrified_ beyond belief.

"..._Dance_, Sode no Shirayuki."

Rokungai, when it wasn't winter or autumn or spring, was often scorchingly hot.

As it was, this was when the summer peaked, but the rush of cool air that came suddenly made the temperature drop so much that he shivered.

"Second dance, White ripple. _Hakuren_."

And what he saw was a breathtaking crystalline of white and _white_ that _engulfed_ –

_一_

He jerked awake, gasping for breath.

A slender hand rested on his shoulder, gently.

"You are fine, now."

His gaze darted from his shoulder to the person who touched him.

Dark violet eyes observed him calmly. There were embers of fire dancing in the depths of her gaze, reflected by the warm campfire next to them.

In the darkness of the chilly night, her short black hair was tinted with a golden brown hue.

He stared up at her in wonder.

"You should not have wandered out of Rokungai," she said quietly, soft despite it being stern, "it's dangerous, fool."

There was something oddly comforting and _familiar_ about her voice, though he knew he never heard anything like it before. He didn't think she was a resident of the town either.

He should know – he had observed the town where he had resided in. She was also the only person he had seen dressed completely in black and white.

That she towered over him – even from their sitting positions – was the only thing that was similar to the people in the town. _Everyone_ seemed taller than him, and it was a fact that grated at his nerves where ever he went.

(it had also felt strangely _wrong_.)

"I ran a check earlier, but...are you hurting anywhere?" she asked.

He blinked, focusing back on her and those striking violet eyes.

And instead of answering – though he did feel perfectly fine despite some grogginess – he found himself asking a question that had been at the tip of his tongue since he saw those dark violet eyes.

"W-who...who are you?"

Something flickered in that gaze, too quick to be caught.

"My name is Kuchiki Rukia." A pause. "And you?"

He closed his mouth shut, and glared at the burning campfire.

She remained silent, waiting.

Then he inhaled.

"I don't know. When I realized where I was, I - " he stopped.

He tried to remember something. _Anything_.

Much like how he tried when he first came to.

But his memories were a blank slate.

"I don't know," he said quietly, and he was curling into a ball, hugging his knees – it was an action that was more instinctive in an attempt to _protect_ himself –

And then a hand was patting his head gently.

He glanced up, again, with wide eyes.

That person – Rukia? – was smiling a small, quiet smile.

It was both enigmatic and gentle and, for some strange reason, _sad_.

"Shall we think of one then?"

A long minute passed before he nodded mutely.

He could feel his throat constrict, as if there was a strange lump in it.

"Okay," he said.

He felt so small.

_一_

"Hmm...Tsukari?"

"Eiji?"

"Orenji?" She teased, tugging at a lock of bright, spiky orange hair.

He scowled, leaning away from that offending hand. "No way."

Rukia rolled her eyes. "You know it fits."

He growled this time.

Though it really wasn't much of a growl, given his child-like voice and stature.

(He found a new fact that _grated_ at his nerves. Despite them only meeting a short while ago, Rukia _liked_ to annoy him.)

She smirked, then mercifully returned to the topic at hand. "Junpei?"

"Hanabusa?"

"Aido?"

"Kain?"

That was when Rukia sighed, pinching at the bridge of her nose with two fingers. "We have been brainstorming for nearly two hours, brat. Pick one _already_, unless if you want me to keep calling you brat."

Again, he scowled. "It's not like I don't want to! They just...they don't feel _right_," he muttered sullenly.

Rukia made a noise at the back of her throat that sounded like she was both amused and exasperated.

"Okay," she paused, then said, "how about Ichigo?"

"Ichigo," he repeated, testing the sound of it on his lips.

"Ichigo," the black-haired woman echoed, tone filled with things he couldn't read.

He cocked his head at her thoughtfully. And then he nodded decisively. "I like it. Ichigo."

For a moment, he wondered if he imagined the sudden tension that flickered on Rukia's face, but it was gone before he could be sure.

"Alright," she said quietly. "Ichigo it is."

A corner of her lips was upturned, and there was warmth and gentle humor in her expression.

But for some reason, Ichigo couldn't help but feel that Rukia looked both happy and _sad_.

_一_

"Get in."

He was unceremoniously kicked into the shallow river via the backside, dirty clothes and all.

Ichigo yelped.

Water splashed.

He emerged from it, spluttering, then glared at her – who simply just looked amused as she crossed her hands.

"What was that for!"

"You stink," she said matter-of-fact-ly. "And you are dirty. Why else would I have done that, brat?"

"Stop calling me brat!" He smacked at the water, attempting to splash her, but she sidestepped it effortlessly.

He growled.

Rukia smirked.

Then she glanced up at the blue sky, for a moment saying nothing, and sighed.

She looked back at him; rich violet eyes dancing with humor.

Or was it blue eyes?

When it was dark, they looked like pools of liquid purple bordering on deep blue; but now that it was bright, he found it difficult to decide how to describe the color of her eyes. It was as if they could be one or the other or a mix of both, darkening and lightening depending on the mood.

There had been a moment when Ichigo thought they looked almost grey, too.

"Do you not want to?" Rukia's lofty tone dared him to say otherwise. "But just so you know, you are wet anyway, so you _may as well_ clean up."

...And of course, she was right.

But that didn't wipe the scowl from his face.

_一_

Ichigo scrubbed at his body with the cold water, wet clothes abandoned on top of a rock (she said not to bother drying it).

With the scorching sun that beat on his skin the past few days, it was really refreshing. He certainly didn't feel as sticky or grubby as he did for the last couple days, and that was nice. Rukia was...correct to assume he wanted this, he supposed grudgingly.

Speaking of which...

He glanced over at Rukia, again, for the upteenth time. The boy really couldn't help it – he had been checking every other minute, just to make sure she was there.

He was afraid that –

Ichigo stomped that thought down before it could form, and focused on her again.

Rukia was standing, leaning against a tree with her arms crossed; eyes set at the direction they had been travelling to. With him under her arm as she _shunpo-ed_, whatever that word meant.

She looked like she was lost in thoughts.

She also looked like she was waiting for something.

He ran a hand through locks of wet, spiky hair.

And then he paused – because Rukia had stepped away from the tree, uncrossing her hands, and stood as something – a shadow? – blurred from the distance and then stopped in front of her.

"Rukia – " a female's voice. Breathless. One that stopped just abruptly as it started.

He stared at them curiously.

Another black-haired woman, this one with a ponytail.

She was a little taller than Rukia and similarly dressed, with a sword by the waist; and when she darted her gaze towards him – Ichigo could see that this person had eyes of dark grey, easily mistakable for black if she had been much further away.

Ichigo and the stranger stared at each other, both equally wide-eyed.

An array of emotions – too many to count and identify – crossed her face before those dark eyes jerked back to look at an unreadable Rukia.

"What did you – " Again, another abrupt stop.

And now, anger and realization and disbelief was lit on the woman's expression, overtaking the shock that was etched on her face moments ago.

"_You_ – " A hand fisted in on Rukia's _hakama_ roughly. "What did you do!"

Ichigo's jaw dropped.

That woman was manhandling Rukia.

And Rukia just _stood there_, silent, looking as if she was prepared to be _hurt_.

The thought of it made him scramble out of the water, a surge of _protectiveness_ rising –

"Don't hurt her!"

And then Ichigo was suddenly standing in front of a startled Rukia, putting distance between the two women, and his hands were extended outwards as he leaned forward just a little in a defensive posture.

The other female seemed equally astonished, dark grey eyes wide. She looked almost _hurt_.

Silence enveloped them, broken only by the flowing river.

It was Rukia who broke the tension when she rested her warm hands on his bare shoulders.

"Ichigo," she said quietly. "It's alright."

He didn't relax.

"_Ichigo_."

He remained stubborn.

The grey-eyed woman groaned then, rubbing her face with a hand.

"Damn it, Rukia!" she growled; the ire sounding as if it was fading, replaced with things he couldn't recognize. "You owe me an explanation, and it better be a damned good one!"

He tensed, but the hands on his shoulders tightened slightly, warning him not to do anything rash.

"I know," Rukia said quietly. "We will talk afterwards, okay?"

The other exhaled deeply, before directing dark grey eyes at him, one eyebrow quirking.

"Brat," she said, and there was a strange sort of morbid humor in her expression, "unless if you want to parade around in your birthday suit, you should go get dressed."

And then she tossed Ichigo a bundle of cloth that bounced off his head, to which he moved instinctively to grasp.

"I see you remembered my request." There was a hint of a smile in Rukia's response.

The stranger sighed, something wry and affectionate now in her tone. "Why wouldn't I?"

Ichigo was utterly confused.

First Rukia got got manhandled, then she stood there and did nothing, and _now_ they were acting like they were friends? _What_ was their relationship? For that matter, when did Rukia ask this stranger to bring clothes for him?

He felt his shoulders squeezed gently. "Get dressed, Ichigo. Before you catch a cold."

Still, he hesitated.

"I _said_," Rukia enunciated clearly, as if reaching the end of her patience, "get_ dressed_!"

The back of his head exploded with pain, and he dropped the clothes in favor of gripping his head with both hands, now glaring at her.

"OW! That hurt, damn it!"

"Then get dressed when I tell you too, fool," she muttered.

The stranger snorted. "He doesn't care much for modesty, does he?"

Her dry tone gave Ichigo the impression that she was terribly amused. And horrified, as well, as if she had just been scarred for life. "And you do realize I'll _never_ be able to un-see _that_, right, Rukia?"

It was Rukia's turn to sigh. She sounded amused, too, but. There was also something else; something he couldn't begin to identify.

"He's nine, Karin."

Karin breathed in, deeply, and ran a frustrated hand over her face.

"I know," she said, and there was a hint of bittersweet nostalgia in her tone. "I can tell."

_._

_"I don't want him to remember anything, Rukia-chan."_

.

_-Part II End-_


	3. III

Disclaimer: Do not own, spoilers abound, and unbeta-ed. Manga-based.

_._

_**Paper Cranes**  
>III<em>

_._

The next new person he met was a tattoo-ed man who _gaped_ at them (the very, very large man who opened the humongous gate for them silently didn't count).

"Oh bloody _fuck_. What the – _OOF_!"

He never finished, because Rukia silenced him with a slam to the jaw using the back of her hand.

"Do _not_ use uncouth language in the presence of a child, Renji."

Ichigo wanted to laugh at the man sprawled on the floor, but restrained. He could relate, because, well, Rukia hit _hard_.

That didn't mean he wasn't grinning, though, as he stepped up to the stranger and stared down at him.

"Who are you?" He asked the man curiously.

Renji rubbed at his jaw, disbelief etched onto his face, but didn't respond. His eyes were darting from him to Rukia to Karin (who had crossed her hands) to him before it rested solely on Rukia.

It was like they were communicating with _eyes_ alone, Ichigo thought.

It was also beginning to annoy him, because that was what happened with Karin, too.

He felt a scowl forming by itself again.

And just when he contemplated throwing a tantrum, Renji's brown eyes returned to scrutinize him. He was frowning.

"Abarai Renji. But that's Abarai-fukutaichou to you, kid."

He cocked his head slightly. "Fukutaichou?"

Renji ignored that. "What's your name?"

"Ichigo," he said plainly. "And will you answer my question?"

The frown deepened.

And then the red-haired man directed his gaze back to the two females, ignoring him _again_.

Silence reigned.

It was Karin's long sigh that broke the stillness.

"I'm going to see Yuzu," she muttered – and then those dark eyes lingered on Ichigo for a moment before disappearing, leaving only a momentary shadow.

Rukia spoke next. "I have to report to the Thirteenth Division."

Renji's frown deepened even more, before he sighed, then stood; rubbing the back of his head.

"Alright." His hand shot out to grab Ichigo by the scruff of his neck. "I'll take the kid to the Fourth Division then."

Ichigo blinked at both of them. "Wait, what? _Where_?"

He tried to wriggle free, but wasn't even close to being successful. That man had an _iron_ grip! He felt the first hints of panic thrum at his chest. "Rukia – "

"Ichigo." A calming hand rested on his shoulder. "I'll come by, in a bit."

There was a sincere promise in those dark violet eyes, enough to make him calm down.

He swallowed. "Okay."

The boy never did notice Renji's frown growing even more, or he would've wondered how it could get so...frowny.

And then to Renji, Rukia said, "I found him at District Eighty."

The former made a noise at the back of his throat, a comprehending note in his voice. "Literally?"

"Yes," she sighed. "Literally." She directed her gaze back at Ichigo, but addressed both of them with her next words. "I'll see the two of you soon."

A gentle squeeze on his shoulder – _he won't hurt you, Ichigo_ – and then she disappeared.

He stomped down the insecurity that was bubbling in him and the urge to run after her.

Another lapse of silence.

"Well," Renji said finally, lifting him up until his feet was no longer touching the ground, and they were eye-to-eye. "Just you and me now, kid. Time to get your scrawny ass to the Fourth."

He bristled.

"Stop calling me kid!"

"You are a kid, kid."

_一_

Rukia wondered if she made a mistake.

Never – _never_ – did she thought that Ichigo would feel the need to protect her from Karin. _Karin_.

His _sister_.

The scene refused to leave her mind.

Should she have sent Karin out to find him alone, instead? Curse it all, she shouldn't have been so stubborn to engage in the search herself, even if she _owed_ him that. Or better yet, she should've brought Karin _with_ her.

What had she been _thinking_?

She tasted something bitter in her mouth.

And now, the child was attached to _her_ instead of his actual _family_.

That, _that_, was wrong in _so many ways_.

When she had found Ichigo, he looked malnourished, a little bruised, and dirty; even if he still had the energy to scamper around. She had no idea if anyone there had raised a hand against the child – in any form or manner – and had not asked.

But that didn't mean there weren't any hints that indicated so.

The fact that he didn't want to let _her_ out of his sight – even if it had been just hours after their (his) first meeting – spoke volumes. And earlier, his _expression_ when she said she had to leave him and Renji for a short while –

What did that place _do_ to him?

Rukia knew, as someone who once lived in Inuzuri, being in District Eighty had affected Ichigo in some ways she wished did not happen. It was the furthest – and the worst – district to live in. Who knew Ichigo would be so unlucky to land there, of all places?

One day in that district would be enough to scar a child for life, let alone _three weeks_.

And he was nine. _Nine_. Nothing could convey her astonishment when she realized he was _nine years old_.

She expelled a long breath.

That was as close to an indication of extreme frustration Kuchiki Rukia would show. If it was anyone else – namely, the more hot-headed people she knew, which was quite a few – it was far more likely destruction and vandalism of properties would occur. And they would not be miniature in terms of severity.

And then her thoughts drifted back to Karin's discomfort and troubled emotions.

She wondered what the younger woman thought of all these.

Karin wasn't angry that Rukia found him and he got attached to _her_, she knew.

The younger Kurosaki wasn't a petty person. She was bright, sharp, and very observant – sometimes too observant for her own good. And while Rukia hadn't explicitly mentioned what she had _done_ to Ichigo, it was no surprise to her that her friend realized what had actually happened.

What Karin didn't know was _why_.

And Rukia would not lie to her. If asked, she would tell all that she could.

But that did not mean she knew what to do with Ichigo...who wasn't _Ichigo_.

The right thing to do, and what she would do in a heartbeat if the situation permitted it, was to somehow shift his attachment to his sisters rather than her.

But she didn't know how to do it.

Not without hurting him, or making it tenfold more difficult for him to trust another soul again.

If this was the Ichigo she _knew_, she would have rapped him on the head, maybe kicked him in the shin, then shove him at Karin. But he wasn't. He was a child - a _child_ - who knew nothing and understood nothing, with eyes that were wide and innocent and naive as if seeing the world for the first time.

The thought of it made something twist in her.

Supressing a grimace, and schooling her features, she slid the door open.

At once, movements from multiples of people in the large room stopped.

"Kuchiki-fukutaichou!"

"Welcome back, Kuchiki-fukutaichou!"

She surveyed them for a short moment. Their swords were out, and they were scattered around the training hall; some breathing hard, some not. Yuusuke's stance still needed work, she found herself noting absently. So did Rikei's.

And then her eyes landed on her white-haired captain who was standing by the side, observing.

"Rukia," Ukitake smiled warmly, inclining his head before coughing once. Twice.

Thrice.

She felt a stab of worry and guilt run through her at that sight.

His condition was detoriating, she knew.

She shouldn't have insisted – _demanded_, a reproachful part of her mind said – on searching for Ichigo herself, not when she had been needed in the division.

Her captain had always been too kind for his own good.

She felt her grip on the door tighten slightly.

Rukia breathed in, once, and nodded.

"I'm back, Taichou."

_一_

Unohana Retsu, Ichigo decided, was a nice person.

She was a tall, black haired woman with dark blue eyes; with a motherly appearance and a really, really comforting smile and a gentle touch that put him at ease.

He liked her already.

And he couldn't stop himself from poking at her glowing hands curiously as they hovered over him.

Unohana appeared to not mind. Possibly because he wasn't attempting to poke them hard enough to jar her movements which...he had done to Rukia, a couple days ago, admittedly (when she had attempted to hover her glowy, shiny hands over him).

That had resulted in Rukia rapping him on the head (hard) to make him stop.

Ichigo didn't quite understand why Renji looked terribly amused, though. The red-haired man looked like he wanted to say something, but refrained after Unohana threw him some sort of _look_ (he couldn't really catch what look it was, because it was just for an instant) that wiped the grin from his face and made him gulp.

"Anyway," the older man said after eyeing them for a couple long beats, as if making sure of something. "I have to go. I just came by to drop the kid."

"Stop calling me that!" Ichigo scowled.

Unohana nodded. "Thank you, Abarai-fukutaichou."

"Don't go wreaking havoc, kid," Renji called out, waving a hand before disappearing; the door closing behind him.

His expression soured.

Nobody _listened_ to him.

He grew silent and looked around the room; Unohana did not attempt to strike a conversation either, merely concentrating on...whatever she was doing.

But, unfortunately for him, there was nothing of interest lying around the room.

And fortunately for her, the silence was broken before his restlessness could take over.

"Ichigo-san," Unohana said gently as she drew her hands away, glow fading, "Kuchiki-fukutaichou should be here soon – " her words halted.

Someone was knocking at the door.

He blinked.

"Come in," was the captain's response.

"Excuse me..." a pale, black-haired man stepped in.

"Yes, Yamada-san?"

"Umm..." He sounded hesitant, gaze darting from Ichigo to his captain. He looked worried and nervous as he glanced back at the boy. "...Zaraki-taichou is here."

A pause.

Then Unohana turned to look back at Ichigo, too – and for the first time since he met her, he saw her brow furrowing slightly as if troubled.

"That does not seem to be wise," she murmured after a moment, standing gracefully. "Yamada-san...please accompany Ichigo-san for the time being. I will – "

What wise _what_?

"Kusajishi-fukutaichou is also here!" Yamada blurted out.

Silence.

Then:

"_Oiiiiiiii._" A loud, loud voice drawled out from somewhere further down the hall.

"Yachiru is here~!"

"Hiii_ – _!" Yamada jumped.

Ichigo just sort of stared at him.

He was _funny._

Unohana's only reaction was to smile_ serenely_.

"Yamada-san," she said calmly, "please take Ichigo-san with you and meet with Kuchiki-fukutaichou at the Thirteenth Division. And do inform her to meet me when she is available, if that is fine."

Ichigo blinked.

Well, he wasn't about to protest, even if he wondered what was up – he didn't mind seeing Rukia sooner, most definitely.

"Y-yes, I understand."

The black-haired woman inclined her head gracefully and stepped past the nervous man to the hall.

"You may want to consider using the window to leave, given who is coming down this way." A pause. "We will meet again, Ichigo-san."

The door shut behind her, leaving the two males alone.

"Hello," the funny man greeted after a small, awkward moment. "I'm Yamada Hanataro, and – "

The sound of something crashing loudly made Hanataro jump again.

Again, the boy blinked - it was really all he could do to react when the older man snatched him up and held him under one arm.

"Wehavetogonowsorry_ – _!"

And then they were suddenly free-falling from the _third floor _of the fourth division.

...Let it be known that, should anyone ask if Ichigo screamed, he would deny it vehemently.

And Hanataro would be wise enough to not say a word.

_一_

Karin could sense her reiatsu before she even entered.

It made her breathe out a sigh, despite herself. Her palms pressed more firmly onto the stool she was sitting on, and before long, a warm hand rested itself on her shoulder.

"I must apologize to you, Karin."

She sighed, again, and closed her eyes.

"You don't have to."

"Karin – "

She grasped that hand, squeezing slightly; leaning back until she was resting completely on the older shinigami.

Rukia's hand was soft, and warm.

In return, Rukia shifted and placed her other hand on Karin's shoulder, too; allowing for more support.

Karin felt a flicker of amusement tug at her. Wasn't this odd, now?

She wasn't a touchy-feely sort of person. She'd get into brawls when she was much younger, sure, and she wouldn't hesitate to hit people (usually males) if they did something stupid.

But she wasn't ever one to just lean back against someone and not be uncomfortable, not even if the other person was a female despite the fact that females were generally more...affectionate. Except maybe with Yuzu, because Yuzu would just ignore her scowl and hug her anyway, and she wouldn't actually shove her off.

And with Rukia...

Maybe it was because Rukia had become something that was...not quite an older sister, and not quite a best friend, either; over the last few years.

And maybe it was because Rukia was all she really had ever since Yuzu fell into a coma.

Ichigo and her father _didn't_ count_ - _they had belonged to different worlds since their deaths.

And even if Ichigo was here now...he didn't know her. Didn't know Yuzu. Didn't know Rukia. Didn't know _anyone_. He was a stranger_._ _She_ was a stranger to him.

He wasn't Ichi-nii. He was just _Ichigo_.

"Karin?"

She forced herself back to reality, opened her eyes, and gazed down at the girl – her twin, her _other half_ – that was sleeping on the bed in front of her. Sleeping, sleeping, and _never_ waking up – Yuzu, _Yuzu_, _why_ –

She breathed in, once, _focused_, and spoke. "It wasn't your idea, was it?"

Karin had been mostly silent – ever since she saw _him_ – during the trip from the river back to Seireitei. Rukia hadn't bothered her then, even if Ichigo did every once in a while (she entertained him with sarcasm that made him scowl and sulk). Clearly, the older woman had been quite aware she was furiously trying to piece the puzzle back together.

And now, she was certain.

"No, it wasn't," was the hesitant response.

Karin turned to look at her, searching her face. "Then why?"

It was a long moment before Rukia answered, the corner of her lips upturned into a humorless smile. "It was your father's request."

She felt her hand twitch and curl into a _damned tight fist_ –

"Karin."

There was an understanding and not-quite-sad glimmer in Rukia's eyes. "Your father means well, even if it's not so apparent."

Try not apparent _at all_.

"Means well," she echoed.

Anger and confusion stirred in her. How did her father even know about...about all_ these_?

Then she forced that thought to a halt. She wanted answers for _this_, first. That could come later.

"Explain," she snapped, more harshly than she intended.

"He thinks that Ichigo could do with a fresh start." Rukia's soft words were layered with so many _things_ and _memories_ that Karin felt something in her clench.

And then Rukia was smiling a ghost of a smile that was familiar and _damning_ and made her want to hurl curses at her brother –

"Ichigo hasn't forgiven himself, you know," quiet, knowing words. "Even after over a decade."

She felt as if she had just swallowed a bitter pill.

"Are you telling me he spent the past decade _moping_?" she couldn't help but release the biting sarcasm. It was practically embedded in her. And her choice of description seemed to garner a flicker of amusement and resignation from Rukia.

"I would put it a little more differently," her friend said, lips curving faintly. "But yes. Essentially, 'moping' is what he did."

Then the older woman lapsed into silence, gaze clouding over. The humored glint faded from her violet-blue eyes.

And Karin didn't like this silence.

She didn't like it at all.

It felt like an interlude to even worse news, and nine out of ten times when she thought so, she had been _right_.

"There's something else, isn't there?" she asked her.

There was no answer, for a while, and that was as good as a _yes_.

"What I did for him – it wasn't a guarantee that it would have worked." Rukia said at last. "Like all normal soul burials – if the soul was determined to not forget, chances are he will not. What I did was merely increase those chances. And for Ichigo...it was a test your father set for him."

_He failed the test_, she did not say.

_A part of him wanted to forget_, was the implied.

This time, the regret was clear on Rukia's face, in her ghost of a smile, in the faint, soft glimmer lit in the depths of her gaze; a strange sort of invisible weight draping over her shoulders like it had been there for the _longest time_ and didn't plan to leave anytime soon.

It made Karin want to punch her idiot of a brother.

Silence.

She stared up at Rukia.

Rukia eyed her back, calm and quiet and _piercing_, still giving that _damned_ almost-smile; where in reality Karin knew that so much more was going on behind that demeanor–and only her pride and everything that emblazoned the word _Kuchiki_ was stopping her from showing any clear indication that she was _hurting_ too, _Ichigo, you bastard _–

She couldn't stop herself from inhaling a shuddering breath.

"He forgot," she felt the need to say then, or whisper, or croak out, maybe; something twisting horribly in her.

A warm thumb brushed against her cheek gently, as if wiping something away.

"Yes," was Rukia's soft words, but it felt like a _nail to the coffin _– "he forgot."

She breathed in, again, more deeply this time; in an attempt to reign in her emotions.

Karin didn't cry, _wouldn't_ cry, would curse herself before she cried, but she closed her eyes anyway, and pressed a hand to her face, head bowing low.

And she could sense Rukia's arms enveloping her, a hand resting on top of her head, ruffling gently; could _feel_ the steady heartbeat from the soft fabric she was pressed into, and Rukia was warm, _warm_; and it was making something clog up in her _throat_ –

She felt like a _child_, but she was no longer a child, had _refused_ to be, _didn't_ want to be, so why did Rukia make her feel like _this_?

This wasn't the first time she had been held like this. It was the second. Her older friend was not one for affections, soothing touches, or anything remotely close to maternal that would make Karin grimace at in disgust, thank god. But there was a time, long, long ago, when she did _this _–

_Yuzu_.

There was a _time._

_Stop_, she wanted to say. _Stop, please. _

But she didn't.

_._

_-Part III End-_

_._

_A/N: _Assignments are detrimental to writing. And why is it seven degrees Celsius when it's _spring_?

Well, that aside... There's probably two other things I should say. I've never watched the anime; only read the manga. So some things that happened in the anime, be it on how it may change some things characteristically or otherwise, I will not be aware of them. Nor, do I plan on picking up the anime anytime soon.

I know there was an episode - or a few? - where Karin had been the focus, but. Because I didn't watch it, what impressions I have on Karin is based on the manga; as well as a select few fanfictions that I have read, I suppose. By the next chapter, I hope, if not this one, you should get quite a clear idea on how I'm characterizing Karin unless if I do something wrong (and does she have blue eyes or dark grey eyes? I initially thought it's dark grey, but..).

Secondly, in regards to suffixes...I'm not entirely certain if I will get them correctly all the time. There are way, way too many characters in Bleach, and over forty volumes to check what character X uses when addressing character Y. Does Ukitake use Rukia or Kuchiki? Hmmm. Yeah. I don't remember. Well. If I did make any errors when it comes to how a certain character addresses another, please do inform me and I'll attempt to fix them at the earliest convenience.

Yep, that's pretty much all I have to say. Aside from a complaint about Byakuya. He's a _pain_ to write.

I hope it was an interesting read so far?

Cheers.


	4. IV

Disclaimer: Do not own, spoilers abound, and unbeta-ed. Manga-based.

_._

_**Paper Cranes**  
>IV<em>

_._

Everything, from that man's cold aura to his impassive look to the impeccably tailored clothes, made him look imposing. And from the black hair to the cool composure in his slate grey eyes to the thin, firm line of his lips - he oozed _nobility_ without even having to try.

Ichigo was far from intimidated though, unlike the funny man beside him.

He was actually sort of bored, because it had been completely silent for one whole minute.

His eyes wandered.

Outside on the veranda, he could hear the tell-tale signs of bamboo knocking onto bamboo; the clear sound of water flowing, and the scent of fresh, crisp grass -

"Speak."

It was a clear, cool voice that cut through the serenity of the garden laid open before them.

It was also not a request, Ichigo realized a moment later; it was a _command_.

Hanataro swallowed.

"K - Kuchiki-taichou, Unohana-taichou sent me to meet with Kuchiki-fukutaichou. She wasn't at her division, and I was informed she had returned to the manor - "

Kuchiki? He was a Kuchiki? Who was he to Rukia?

"Who are you?" Ichigo interrupted, half curious and half suspicious; Hanataro was too late when his hands swooped down to shut him up.

Something - surprise? - flashed past those grey eyes before it disappeared into cool blankness.

"My apologies, Kuchiki-taichou! He's not - he, uh, he doesn't know anything yet! He's still new to Seireitei!"

For a moment, silence reigned, broken only by Ichigo's attempts to wrestle out of Hanataro's grip. "Mmrpghh!"

"Shh!"

Then the tall, black-haired man inclined his head to the side, slightly, and spoke. "Inform my sister that she has guests."

"Hai, Kuchiki-sama." The girl - servant? - who had stood, still and silent by the corner of the room, retreated to the hall and closed shut the door.

Ichigo slammed an elbow into Hanataro's gut that made Hanataro release him - "OOF!" - and stared at the tall man in front of him.

"Rukia's your sister?"

Those cool, sharp eyes returned to look at him.

In fact, he was just staring down at Ichigo impassively - which made him _glare_ back.

Silence reigned again. For a couple minutes.

And finally, _finally_, the stare-down competition ended when the tall man directed his gaze back to Hanataro, cold eyes betraying nothing.

"Who is this insolent boy?"

Ichigo bristled.

Insolent _boy_?

Nevermind the fact that he had been called a boy or brat a few times already, hearing it from _him_, for some reason, _irritated_ Ichigo to no end.

"What the he - mmph - !"

Hanataro's hands were clamped over his mouth once more.

"His name is Ichigo, Kuchiki-taichou! He was brought into Seireitei not too long ago, and um - he's - ea_aarghh_ - !"

The man who had wrestled him down released him, presumably because Ichigo _bit_ him.

Ichigo growled. "I can speak for myself!" Then he directed his glare at the irritating man, ignoring the way Hanataro's nervous energy was radiating even if he remained skittishly silent. "I'm Ichigo. Who are _you_?"

Slate grey eyes narrowed.

But before anything else could be said, the door slid open sharply, stopping just an inch before it could hit the edge with a loud crack.

"Nii-sama."

Immediately, his attention turned from the man to the woman by the door. Who had arrived rather quickly. Exactly how many minutes ago did the servant leave?

Hanataro, who had remained silent, looked noticeably relieved despite still cradling his bitten hand.

If Ichigo had noticed the similarities between the Kuchiki siblings earlier, it was even more pronounced now. It showed in their features, the aristocratic air surrounding them, and the black hair that was the most prominent of them all.

Rukia did seem a little on edge, however. It wasn't obvious, but the slight furrow of her eyebrows and the tension in her jaw said otherwise. Her brother, on the other hand, had a completely impassive look.

Clearly, Rukia's control was not as great as him.

And the latter was eyeing her with an unreadable gaze, one that she returned as she stepped into the room.

Ichigo wanted to sigh a long suffering woebegone sigh. Communicating with the eyes. _Again_.

How the hell do these people even communicate with eyes _alone_?

"I have business to attend to for a few days," the tall, black-haired man said at last, walking past her to the door. "Do what you must with them."

"Of course," Rukia said cordially, bowing lightly. "My apologies for bothering you, nii-sama." A pause; a flicker of concern and warmth. "Please take care."

"Hm."

That ended the conversation effectively.

It was also...well, he didn't know what to expect when a pair of siblings communicate, but that certainly wasn't it. Maybe he was expecting something warmer? But, his instincts were telling him hell would break loose first before the tall man did anything remotely close to affectionate.

But then again...that didn't mean he couldn't sense _something _between the two. It was small and almost invisible, but it was _there_. Or at least, it showed in the brief warmth in Rukia's eyes, and her brother's minute but clearly acknowledging response.

And then the tall man did a thing - that was strange, Ichigo presumed, since bemusement crossed Rukia's features just for an instant before it disappeared.

He had paused by the door.

"Rukia."

"Yes, nii-sama?" She straightened.

Slate grey eyes slanted towards _him_, before returning to her.

"Do you intend to adopt the boy?"

Silence reigned.

He blinked.

Adopt him? Wait, _what_?

Rukia's mouth had opened, once, before it closed shut. Surprise was written all over her face as she stared at her sibling, gaze darting to Ichigo once before returning to him.

Hanataro was radiating nervous energy, again.

Confusion was lit in those violet eyes, and it was replaced by a bewildered but considering look before realization set and her eyes narrowed. He saw her hand curl into a fist tight enough that the edges of it whitened.

And Rukia's next word was as clear as day.

"No."

It was as if ice had blanketed the room.

Her brother's eyes had yet to leave her, silent and assessing.

And then they were trained back to the hallway where the door had remained open, as if all interest was lost.

"I see."

The door slid shut behind the older Kuchiki, leaving the three of them.

Silence draped over them.

He just sort of stared up at her in half confusion and half _hurt_; Rukia looked momentarily lost in thought, gaze pensive, shoulders tense.

He was hurt by the cool, calm admission of, _no_,_ she wasn't going to adopt him_.

He didn't understand why it hurt to hear her say so.

But it _hurt_.

Ichigo took a step back.

"Ichigo?" she seemed to have finally realized something was wrong.

He responded by taking another step that changed into a bolt to the garden.

"Ichigo!"

.. .. ..

Kuchiki Rukia, Hanataro noticed, was grimacing, but did not move.

She didn't seem like she was going to chase after Ichigo.

"Um...is it okay to leave him be?" he asked hesitantly. He was still bewildered by the question Byakuya posed.

Who _would_ have seen it coming, really? And Ichigo as a _Kuchiki_? That was a thought that threatened to kill his brain.

Rukia sighed.

"It will not do to leave a guest unattended," she said, glancing outside briefly. Pensively. "Besides, there's only so far he can go within the manor. At least, within these grounds, we know he will be safe."

He thought about it for a moment. She was right - it wasn't as if Ichigo could jump over the walls or break open doors in his current state. That would limit the places where he could go to a great deal, most certainly.

Then Rukia's gaze returned to him.

"If it eases your concern," she offered, "I do have a lock on his reiatsu."

That caused him to blink twice; first in confusion, second in comprehension.

"I'd have forgotten he still radiates his reiatsu like it's nothing," he admitted faintly, feeling a familiar admiration bubble up in his chest. The amount of reiatsu that Ichigo had, even at the age of nine, was _astounding_. And that number, he knew, would soon double (triple?) as he grew again. "He never was able to control it even back then, did he?"

It was a long moment before Rukia answered.

"No," her tone was soft. "He never did understand how to do it."

His mood dampened, instantly.

"I'm sorry, Rukia-san."

She regarded him with dark violet eyes that gave nothing away.

"Why? There is nothing you have to apologize for." A momentary pause. "Rather, should I not be the one to apologize? This is the second time you had to come here today."

"I came by this morning," he agreed, but continued hastily, "but please don't apologize. I didn't do it just because it was an obligation."

A smile flickered on Rukia's face, before it faded to something somber. Serious. _Hopeful_. "Is there...?"

"No," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. I wasn't able to do anything for Yuzu-san."

Rukia closed her eyes momentarily, and sighed. "It's not your fault," she told him. "And we are grateful that you are able to spare the time to check on her every week."

"I can tell that Yuzu-san has been receiving the best of the care anyone has to offer, here," he said after a moment, hoping those words would count for something. "You made sure of it, Rukia-san."

A shadow crossed her expression.

"It's all I can do for her, as well," she noted wryly.

He wanted to argue that statement, but held back when she inclined her head at him and smiled slightly. Quietly. It was a smile reminiscent to that time when he talked to her in the jail, when she had been awaiting a trial of _death_ -

"I was informed that Unohana-taichou sent you, Hanataro-san?" Rukia asked, jerking him out of his reverie.

Then she frowned, as if having just noticed something.

Her gaze was trained somewhere below his chest, where he was still cradling his - oh.

"What happened to your hand?"

He'd have completely forgotten about his hand that _Ichigo_ _bit_.

"Uh..."

.. .. ..

Karin rubbed at her face wearily.

She wondered how much longer she could ignore it - it was _really_ giving her a headache.

"Troublesome," she muttered, exhaling a long sigh; then she stood, giving the briefest of the glance at her twin who remained sleeping - ignoring the twinge in her chest - and turned to walk to the door.

The paper-wood door slid open fast with a sharp crack when it slammed against the edge. Karin honestly could care less about being gentle about it. Yuzu would've reprimanded her for it, but really, right now, she _didn't_ care.

She stifled a sigh, and glared at the bush by the edge of the wooden floor, where an _orange_ shadow had dove into the moment she jerked the door open.

The bush twitched.

Karin glared more.

"Stop hiding," she snapped at it. "I can sense your fluctuating reiatsu all over!"

The bush bristled. "I don't know what you're talking about. And what the hell is reiatsu?"

Oh, and _speaking_ didn't mean he wasn't hiding. Right.

She glared more.

Then, she strode forward and stuck her hand in the clutter of leaves; groping blindly for something solid, and came out successful a second later.

"Hey!" was the indignant shout.

"What," she enunciated clearly, glaring daggers as she held her new burden at arm's length in mid-air, "the hell are you doing here, _Ichigo_?"

Ichigo glared at her, twigs and leaves stuck on him and all.

"I was exploring," he said unrepentantly. "Now let me go!"

The look that Karin gave was filled with disbelief. "Do you _seriously_ expect me to believe that? Where the hell is Rukia?"

Even as she asked that question, her senses were already extending outwards in search of her friend - and she found her within a heartbeat. How quickly she had found her was no surprise to Karin - after all, Rukia's reiatsu was a presence she had developed a lock on for quite some time now, much like how she had for Yuzu's.

There was also another person - _Hanataro_ - with Rukia in the...'greeting lounge'. Or whatever it was called. The Kuchiki manor had all sorts of confusing names for their individual rooms, and Karin hadn't bothered to learn what they were.

Her head throbbed. She withdrew immediately, because the presence of some other random people that she sensed - and their damned _feelings_ - was beginning to invade her senses. Karin was good - and the _best_ in her division - at sensing reiatsu, but her gift (sometimes she thought of it as a curse) and control had always been detrimental, not for others, but for herself.

A half grimace and half scowl formed on her face.

And then she noticed something...peculiar.

Where she expected more trashing and struggling from Ichigo, he had degenerated into a sullen sulk, glaring at nowhere in particular.

She frowned.

What.

Did something happen with Rukia? That was certainly the only explanation she could come up with - especially given that it hadn't been too long ago since her friend left.

Or was this Rukia's way - even if she couldn't make sense of how she did it - to make her talk with Ichigo?

But that idea made even less logic, because Rukia wasn't an insensitive prick and she knew that her older friend _trusted_ her to do what she should do without having to be prodded or smacked - which was a contrary to her _idiot of a brother_ - and she'd do it in her own time, when she was _ready_.

After all, like her brother, Karin wasn't one to take family and bonds lightly.

But unlike her brother, she didn't feel the need to be everyone's hero and _wallow_ in self-pity and guilt when she couldn't be.

So the right answer, she concluded, was: Something happened, and Ichigo _ran off_.

Far be it for her to speculate why her amnesiac brother ran off, but, she wouldn't be surprised if he misunderstood something and decided to be the idiot he was.

And Rukia probably thought it was okay to leave him be for the moment - especially since no one in their right mind would dare to cause trouble in the Kuchiki manor. And that he was radiating reiatsu like nobody's business. Most likely the latter, really.

Again, she sighed, and shook the burden lightly to call his attention. _Troublesome_.

"What?" He scowled back at her, but didn't bother trying to wriggle free. "And are you going to let me down already?"

Her frown grew.

That was also more half-hearted than she had expected him to be.

"I will," she said, "but you have to promise me not to run off."

Ichigo scowled some more.

"...Fine."

She let him down, eyeing him carefully just in case she may need to grab him again. Pigs would fly before he - a nine year old who didn't even know he was _radiating_ reiatsu - could ever outrun her.

But if she had to go through the effort to catch him, she scowled inwardly, she _would_ hit him.

Ichigo twitched and shifted on his feet awkwardly, but didn't move.

Karin scrutinized him with a stare that could've bore holes, silent and unmoving.

"Who's that?" Ichigo asked suddenly, the sullenness half-replaced by curiosity as he peered into the room - Karin cursed mentally, she didn't close the door!

She sighed, watching him trot closer, closer...until he was in the room itself. He seemed to have forgotten he was sulking. It was as if he had the attention span of a second and... _oh god_, she thought, feeling the realization sink in as if it hadn't yet.

Ichigo _is_ a _child_.

Karin followed at a strangely more sedate pace, half-wondering if she shouldn't let him see Yuzu. She couldn't decide if she was agitated or apprehensive or morbidly amused. Or a combination of them all.

Or something.

But really, what did it matter? Ichigo had already reached the bedside by the time she was done contemplating.

The shinigami ran a frustrated hand past her face, and opted to say nothing instead; watching as he clambered up to the bed and eyed the sleeping girl curiously, head cocking slightly. He didn't attempt to poke or prod her (that would have made Karin hit him), and was just staring.

He was staring at Yuzu with an intensity that reminded her of _the_ Ichigo that she _knew_.

Only much less burdened.

Then he turned, amber eyes locking back onto Karin's bemused ones.

"It's late afternoon and she's still sleeping?"

Those words, however unintentional they were, made her feel as if a dagger had stabbed into her, and twisted once.

Twice.

She pressed a hand to her neck, rubbing lightly, and sighed; then she sat down on the stool she vacated when she had felt Ichigo's presence, and gave him a considering glance before looking at Yuzu.

"She's been asleep for a long time," Karin said, and felt as if a stranger was speaking with her voice.

"Why?"

Again, she sighed.

Her hand moved to brush brown bangs away from Yuzu's face. Her sister's face was smooth and warm to the touch, and it was a fact that comforted her to no end because it was a sign that she was _alive_.

Unlike a certain day she had no desire to remember.

"She was injured in a battle," Karin said quietly. "And this was the the result."

Ichigo seemed to contemplate this as he glanced between the two of them, something intuitive and perceptive glinting in amber eyes.

"She's important to you?"

And of course, still so _insensitive_.

Karin could almost laugh if she had been in the right mood.

There was a _child-like_ curiosity in Ichigo's voice, and the thought of it amused her to no end. _Ah, Ichi-nii...if only your twenty-nine year old self could see you now._

And _she_ was entertaining his curiosity, for some morbid reasons she couldn't describe.

"She is," she murmured. "I'm not sure if I can...keep it together, if she's gone." _If she died._

Yuzu was her sister. Her twin. Her other _half_.

"What's her name?"

That made her pause.

Stab, stab, _twist_.

"Yuzu," she said finally, feeling the soft hair in between her fingers, and closed her eyes. "Kurosaki Yuzu."

A brief silence reigned.

And then her sleeve was being tugged - almost sharply, yet just stopping short of being rough. But what boy knew how to be gentle, anyway?

She could name some, she supposed. But Ichigo wouldn't be one of them.

Another tug, harder this time, jerking her out of her musings.

"What?" she asked, eyes opening to glance at him.

There was fire in Ichigo's gaze.

"Yuzu will wake up."

Karin blinked, the words not registering. "What?"

"Yuzu will wake up," Ichigo said firmly.

She just stared at him like he had grown three heads.

"I'll bother her every day until she wakes up," the boy promised, a stubborn glint lit in his amber eyes as his lips jutted out and curved downwards determinedly as he pointed a finger at Yuzu. "Every, single, day."

Something caught in her throat.

Dear god, when Ichigo was like this, he looked so much like the older brother she once _had_ -

"Oi, Karin! You listening to me?"

She blinked, again, then just as swiftly composed herself.

"Don't shout," she said with an annoyed tone that she wasn't even close to feeling. "I can hear you just fine without you bursting my ear drums."

She pressed a palm to her ear just to add some exaggerated effect.

"I wasn't shouting!"

"Were too."

"Were not!"

"Were too."

She ignored the way her heart felt strangely lighter.

"Did you even hear what I said?" Ichigo scowled.

Karin felt herself smile, a little unwillingly, and sighed.

Memories or no, Ichigo, apparently, was still Ichigo.

Brash. Rude. Reckless. Impatient.

She really did have a dysfunctional family, she mused, reaching out to flick the boy's head with a finger.

"Ow! What the - "

"Idiot."

_And he was her brother._

.. .. ..

A corner of Rukia's lips rose.

_And is this_, she couldn't help but wonder silently, _good or bad?_

Her head knocked back against the paper wall she had been leaning on, lightly, eyes closing.

She hoped that it would be a good thing.

Then she straightened, uncrossed her arms, and turned; her feet carrying her back down the path she came from.

It wouldn't do to stay any longer.

After all, it was very likely that Karin would sense her should she linger - if her friend hadn't yet. Really, it just so happened that her friend had been distracted by Ichigo's presence at the moment. And Rukia had been repressing her reiatsu - because she wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to interrupt the...reunion, if it could even be called that.

In hindsight, she was glad that she didn't. Even if she had been initially worried about what could have happened.

Shirayuki, at the back of her mind, snorted softly.

It made Rukia smile, a little wryly and a little self-depreciatingly, despite herself.

_Have I been hesitating too much, Shirayuki?_

_I believe I had the pleasure of seeing your brother point it out to you. In a wonderfully subtle manner too, I should add._ There was a hint of amusement in those words.

She grimaced. _Nii-sama_.

What Byakuya had asked...

It shouldn't _even_ have to be asked.

Ichigo would never fit with the Kuchiki's, for one; they played by the rules, he did not. The idea of forcing it onto him didn't even occur to her - no one would've been happy with the outcome, Ichigo least of all. And while her older sibling did respect _Kurosaki Ichigo _for the person he was, Byakuya would sooner break his blade than call him _brother_, she thought rather morbidly.

Byakuya, in other words, wasn't posing a question. He was _reminding_ her of the very thing she had been stalling on.

In fact, Kuchiki Byakuya had _clearly_ read her apprehension like a _book_.

She sighed again.

And Ichigo. What was with his reaction?

He had - for some reason she half understood _and_ half did not - been _hurt_.

_A fool the boy may be,_ her partner's lilting voice floated back in her mind, cold as ice but soft as snow, _but he is not something that would break from the gentlest of a touch. Might I remind you that it was your knuckles that hurt when you hit him on the head a while ago?_

She stifled a sigh, half exasperated and half amused at the thought. That was true; the damned fool had a _hard_ head.

_Then do not ask foolish questions_, Shirayuki said reproachfully. _It is unbecoming_. _Do not forget that I have resided in his soul for months, once upon a time. We both know how much of an obstinate fool he can be, as well as how determined he can get when he wants something. He was a willful child then, and he still is one now. _

Rukia did sigh this time. Her partner was right, of course. The evidence was startlingly clear as she had heard, earlier, when she was outside Yuzu's room, even if the reason made her smile.

She could almost see Shirayuki inclining her head, evidently about to say something.

_Do you not intend to let the boy know his heritage, Rukia? _

She halted in her footsteps, suddenly rigid. _Regardless of what Nii-sama wanted to tell me, it's still not my place to say._

_Ah, but herein lies the problem, _Shirayuki smiled. _We both know Karin has left the decision to you, even if she said nothing_. _His sister she may be, but she does not know how to react to him, much less what to do with him._

Tension knotted her shoulders. _And I do?_

_You have done well enough_, was the simple response, before the words softened. _You have already given him his first name because he could not recall it no matter how much you tried to make him remember. You _gave_ him his name, Rukia, and that is already part of his heritage. _

She bit her lip, hands curling into tight fists.

To give him his name had been a privilege she had not deserved. To name him was to _gain power over him_.

Not so much in a literal sense, perhaps, but power it still was, and it was an ancestral teaching that she took to heart.

And now, to give him his last?

_An addition will change nothing. The questions will come sooner or later, be it from him or from others...as your brother had indicated in his wonderful way. And do you really believe he will remember his name, if he has yet to do so? How long more do you intend to wait? A day? A month? A year? He may never realize it, yet it is as evident to you as it is to me that he will not settle for anything but his own name, even if only instinctively._

She fought a scowl from forming. It was difficult to retort with the numerous arguments her sword had pointed out. _You are being notorious today, Shirayuki._

Soft laughter echoed in her soul. _Only when you are behaving foolishly, Rukia. Only then._

The shinigami sighed heavily, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose with two fingers.

_Fine. Fine, I understand. _

_Do you?_ was the soft, knowing question.

_Tomorrow_, she told her instead, ignoring the question. _Tomorrow, he will know he is a Kurosaki, and he has two sisters here, in Soul Society._

_Not today?_ hummed her sword. _And what of his _other_ heritage?_

Not today, because this seemed like a good opportunity for the Kurosaki siblings to re-acquaint themselves, and she had no desire to stop it.

And no to the latter question, as well, because...

_His history and mine,_ she told her quietly, _is not a heritage for him. I owe him no answers for something he relinquished himself._

_Even if he once had a piece of your soul?_ mused her sword.

_That was a special circumstance._ A pause, before she continued, suddenly curious and morbidly so, _did you like spending your time there?_

Rukia could almost see her scowl.

_No. I doubt you'd enjoy spending time with two children who bickers with each other all day and night either, especially when one is irritatingly loud and the other a hollow boy who takes pleasure from vexing others._

At that statement, she felt guilt flow through her veins.

_I'm sorry_, and there was real regret in her words, _I never meant to let you go._

A ghost of a touch lingered on her cheek, and the soft coolness of her sword seeped into her skin through the cloth.

She could feel the tension unwind from her shoulders, and her eyes closed momentarily.

_All is right now, Rukia. _

_Yes_, she sighed.

Shirayuki hummed, and it was music to her ears.

Her partner still had one final point to make, however.

_The boy may one day remember. And if not that, others will tell him. The news have already spread._

_That is true_, she agreed absently, resuming her walk. She knew even before Hanataro had informed (warned) her that people were aware Ichigo was _here_ - and it was all but telling when Zaraki made a sudden visit to the Fourth Division.

And she didn't think it wise for the two to meet yet; a sentiment that Unohana clearly seemed to reciprocate. Who knew how _Zaraki_ would react? Given that there was Yachiru, it could be in a good way, but this was _Ichigo_, and she honestly could not tell how the Eleventh Division captain would react.

_You are stalling_, was Shirayuki's amused, lofty words.

Rukia grimaced. _I don't know what you want me to say._

_Oh, but you do, Rukia. _

She sighed, suddenly worn out.

_Does it really matter if he remembers or not, Shirayuki?_

_Does it?_ was the banter.

_No._

Shirayuki's only response was to incline her head in acknowledgement, neither reproachful nor favoring, before it faded to the back of her mind.

Rukia exhaled, again, before searching her vicinity, and gesturing for a servant that caught her eye.

It was the same servant that had informed her (by way of Byakuya) that she had guests.

"Yes, Kuchiki-sama?"

"Kyoko." Rukia smiled, slightly. "Ichigo - the boy you met earlier - will be staying here temporarily. Prepare a room and..." she paused, and then said, "have it situated next to Yuzu's room."

Kyoko inclined her head, and bowed. "As you wish. By your leave, Kuchiki-sama."

She acknowledged it with a nod - a somewhat _uncomfortable_ nod.

It seemed that decades as a Kuchiki had done very little to make her comfortable with this level of...respect.

And a small part of her was nagging her, telling her - _reproachfully_ - that she needed to ask permission from her brother for something like this because she had no _right_; even if a much larger part of her reminded her otherwise.

The Kuchiki's was hers to _lead_ when Byakuya wasn't around, and her brother had made it _crystal clear_ to the elders. She should know; she had stood there in shocked silence with a jaw that threatened to drop open, stopped only by an instilled instinct to remain impassive.

Kuchiki Byakuya _willed it_.

And none but the foolish had dared to raise his ire by protesting.

She was his heir and his _sister_, Byakuya told her once - and _only _once; during a rare lull when they had actually _conversed_, in the garden and the pond with koi fish that_ Hisana_ loved.

It was a moment she would never, ever forget - because that was the first time her brother had laid a gentle hand on the top of her head, with faint _pride_ lurking behind a gaze that glimmered with something that made it hard to breathe; and her eyes had _burned_ -

Even now, the memory and the warmth of that hand were still fresh in her mind, and it had never failed to make something constrict in her.

Decades ago, she hadn't considered herself a Kuchiki - even if she had been named so, and acted so.

How could she, when she had thought about how much of a _farce_ it was?

Obligation and gratitude was what made her act the way the elders demanded her to; and with time, practice made it a second nature.

It hadn't been until her brother told her about her _sister_ and a certain promise that she started to see things differently.

That was the moment when she had finally considered it, _accepted it_ -

And now, she was a Kuchiki, through and through.

Rukia breathed in, deeply, and resumed her walk.

Her posture was a little taller.

A little stronger.

_Be proud, Rukia._

_._

_-Part IV End-_

_._

A/N: The conversation between Rukia and Shirayuki had been quite entertaining to write. I honestly had no idea how I would've characterized Shirayuki, but once I started, I was immediately set on a certain, distinctive personality. It seemed to fit. Does it fit for you?

And 'heritage' - this word tends to refer to materialistic things like money and properties in the real world. It's not very often (unless if you count feudal times) that you would see it _formally_ refer to anything akin to pride and honor. On the other hand, it's more or less a given that you really just can't transfer materialistic property over to Soul Society, and that's the difference between both worlds. It might have felt like a peculiar word to use when you first read what I related it to, but I think it fits best when it comes to Rukia, as she is one who _would_ take this kind of thing seriously.

That being said, not my best chapter. Writing Byakuya had proved to be a pain. And I'm way, way in over my head when I thought I could write a nine year old Ichigo properly. I totally suck at it, oi.

Cheers.


	5. V

Disclaimer: Do not own, spoilers abound, and unbeta-ed.

_._

_**Paper Cranes**  
>V<em>

_._

_**Two years earlier. **_

"Rukia!"

Just as quickly as Karin had shouted her name – she was there, by her vice-captain's side, shoving the hollow back with her sword. And all Rukia did was gasp, clutching her side with the hand that wasn't gripping Shirayuki, and dropped to her knees.

She coughed out blood.

The younger woman - who stood by her - growled, glaring at the remaining hollows in front of them. _Surrounding _them.

"Playtime," hissed Karin, and anyone who knew her _would_ be startled at how clear the _fury_ was in her voice, "is _over_."

Her sword lifted, and she angled it horizontally to her face - her left thumb brushing the length of it to the sharp edge – "_Storm them_, _Minaze_."

A wild, furious, haphazard wind blew.

"Shit!" Someone cursed. "A little warning beforehand would be nice, Kurosaki!"

A fierce wind surrounded them, much like a typhoon, with her and Rukia in its curiously calm center. Even through the haphazard wind, she could see some of her nearer comrades retreating hastily.

She spared a quick glance down at her injured friend – and she could see Rukia looking back at her from the corner of her eyes with furrowed brows and dark violet eyes that burned blue.

Karin knew what that _look_ meant. She could recognize that look anytime and anywhere.

And she found herself marveling – for a very short moment – at how her superior could still remain upright and give her that look, even when blood was steadily being soaked into the ground and pain was _clearly_ sketched on her face.

_Control, Karin_.

She gritted her teeth, working furiously to control her emotions.

Anyone who knew her would agree that she was nowhere near as reckless as a certain brother of hers. She may be easily irritable, but the control she had on her emotions was far better than her sibling._ Both _her siblings.

Yet, when she was provoked enough, and nothing would provoke her more than seeing someone she regarded dearly _injured_ –

"Karin," Rukia's hoarse, warning tone that was filled with pain demanded for her to pay attention. "_Breathe_."

She forced herself to breathe in, slowly; and her eyes closed momentarily.

Steady.

_Steady_.

The haphazard wind blowing now may have bought her time, but it was not something that would last more than a short few minutes. It would also be _dangerous_ to her allies if kept up.

What she had wasn't as deadly as Ichigo's. Or stronger, even if she had far more reiatsu than an average shinigami. All the same, however, her _zanpaktou_ still rarely saw action, because it was a double-edged sword.

Because if Yuzu's was a sharp and graceful and focused blade – Kurosaki Karin's zanpaktou was wild and furious and _chaos redefined_.

At its peak, Minaze would see no friends or enemies, save for the ones in the eye of the storm. It may change perhaps, at a later date, but as it was – the mastery Karin had on her weapon was _far_ from perfect.

It could not be tamed. It _will not_.

It simply _was_.

She exhaled, and gazed at the Hollows coldly.

"Begone, you bastards," she hissed.

Chaos _descended._

.. ..

"Just stay still," she muttered, holding her carefully in her arms; the wind almost a howl in her ears as she sped.

"I will be fine," Rukia mumbled, leaning on her completely, eyes closed. Her soft words were raw with pain and exertion.

Karin gritted her teeth. "You are an idiot."

She could feel sticky warm liquid on her hands.

"You are a fool," the other bantered back. _Like your brother_, she didn't say, but Karin heard it anyway, and felt the familiar stirrings of anger tug at her.

"I'm not the one who got speared in the stomach!" And just as quickly as she snapped those words out, she shut her mouth, cursing.

She had meant for her words to come out harshly.

But she hadn't meant for her voice to _tremble._

Dark violet eyes that bordered on blue opened to slant towards her.

That gaze _burned_ into her.

She was losing her bearings, she knew. And she _shouldn't_. Unlike her brother, she was not one who let emotions rule over her. She was _Kurosaki Karin_. She didn'tdo emotional breakdowns and would _never_ do them. And yet -

Rukia had grown almost as dear to her as _Yuzu_ was.

There were many times when she wondered if Rukia had realized that. And sometimes, she had concluded that her friend didn't know. But other times, like now, she couldn't help but think, _she knows, you idiot. She knows, and she knows you know she knows and -_

"_Karin_," Rukia said. The fire in that voice wasn't gone - but it was muted, replaced with a different kind of fire. It was soft, calming, and layered with all sorts of things that made Karin feel as if there was something like an ethereal fist clenching around her heart.

It made her feel like a _child_.

And in so many ways, compared to the small woman in her arms who was so much more older to her, she _was_.

"I - " she cut herself off, then continued again. "I know. I _know_. So just don't - _don't._"

She could feel Rukia sighing against her, settling once more as those eyes closed again.

"I'm not going to die, Karin."

For a moment, Karin couldn't help but wonder why it felt so _strange_ to have something twist _and_ uncoil in her chest at the same time.

But she didn't respond.

She didn't trust herself to speak.

.. .. ..

_**Present time.**_

"The soul does not forget, Kuchiki-fukutaichou."

That was the first thing Unohana felt inclined to tell the young woman (_girl_) standing before her, and she eyed the shinigami with a calm gaze and a faint smile.

"All that it learnt, experienced, gained - it will remember," she said, "the mind and the soul are connected, but they are still two different things. Do you not think so?"

Rukia didn't answer, for a moment.

Unohana watched.

There was some confusion. There was also some weariness. Some resignation. Some lingering regret.

And ghosts of guilt that lurked behind dark violet eyes that would've given away nothing to nearly anyone who wasn't Unohana.

"...Unohana-taichou," Rukia begun hesitantly, "is there a reason why we are talking about this?" A pause. "And I apologize, but I can't say I really understand where you're going with this..."

Her lips curved further, just a little.

"Just some words I would like to ask you to to pass on to Karin-san," she said amiably._ And to you._

Unohana had foregone the use of Karin's last name completely. It had, after all, been the one thing the younger Kurosaki had requested; and now that there were _three_ Kurosakis' residing in Seireitei, well.

"I...see." Rukia said, sounding uncertain. "Is there anything else you would like me to say to Karin?"

"Kurosaki Ichigo may have forgotten his history," she told her gently, "but the scars his soul bear will not disappear, nor would the memories and feelings imprinted on it be gone - and if it was apparent to me during the check-up I did on him yesterday, it should have been even more so to you, and to his sister."

It was another minute where all Rukia did was eye her with growing confusion.

_Hm_, she mused in faint amusement. _Was that too cryptic?_

"If you will explain further please...?" the hesitant question came.

"Some things are nurtured," she smiled, "and some aspects of him, as you should know more clearly than I do, Kuchiki-fukutaichou, were things that come to be because of the things he experienced." A pause, and she continued. "For instance - would I be correct in assuming that he is still strongly overprotective?"

Rukia visibly twitched at that.

Ah. So she was right. While it was true that Ichigo had no reason to show that part of him to her, it was a trait of his that was...very well known. And she was far from surprised to see that he had retained that side of him.

Though she must admit she was immensely curious on how a _nine year old_ exhibited his overprotective tendency.

Unohana hid a smile.

"And that is a characteristic of his that grew to great proportions after certain choice events in his former life, yes?"

"...That is true," Rukia admitted after a moment, her voice just that little bit more quiet. meaning.

"That is what I meant," Unohana pointed out gently. "Even if his mind does not, his _soul_ remembers, and thus his characteristics, to a large degree, is still what you know and remember it to be."

And most certainly, the overprotective tendency of his would not be the only thing that the young boy carried over to this life. There would be more and beyond, feelings and _bonds_ included.

One in particular stood out to her. There had, after all, been more than one reason why power transfer was considered a grave crime in Soul Society.

But, then again, she mused, who could say it wasn't something that was already there before that fateful event?

She looked the younger Kuchiki in the eye, and noted that the girl didn't entirely comprehend what she was saying; though there _was_ understanding, to some degree.

Briefly, Unohana considered explaining further, but decided against it.

These were things that the young ones would learn, eventually, and in their own time. Her words, as it were, would mean little on its own.

And as a healer who had watched all sorts of souls walk into her office, day in and day out; she must admit she looked forward to seeing how they would grow, and learn, and adept.

Wasn't that what it meant to be young, after all?

She smiled lightly.

"That being said," Unohana begun, clearly indicating a change of topic as she scanned the paper on her table briefly once more, "Kurosaki Ichigo, physically, is fine."

And she went on at length about his current state, with Rukia giving the older woman her complete attention.

.. .. ..

Toushirou sighed - growled - under his breath.

Curse that Matsumoto for disappearing again. There were big piles of papers to be documented and stamped on his table, and it was _all her fault_.

"You're going to get wrinkles if you keep that up, Toushirou," was the sudden jibe that came out of nowhere.

He glanced up, and glared daggers at the intruder; who, by the way, had not deigned it necessary to _knock _before entering his office. Though, that didn't mean he was surprised by her presence - he had sensed her approaching before she had even entered his office with soundless footsteps.

"Hitsugaya-_taichou_," he ground out at her for the umpteenth time, his grip on the brush tightening.

"Yes, yes," Karin's response was a non-committal absent mutter (which _irritated _him) as she dropped yet _another_ stack of papers on top of the already large piles on the table, and patted at it once. "Ukitake-taichou told me to pass you these."

He scowled more. Great. He was going to be here _all day_, and when Matsumoto returned, he would _wring her neck_. He spared a glance at the papers stamped with the Thirteenth Division seal, before turning back to stare (glare) openly at her.

She frowned back at him when he said nothing for a full five seconds. "What?"

Karin looked a little tired, but otherwise fine.

A little distracted, as well.

But after all these years, the white-haired shinigami knew better than to be deceived by her mild expression.

Especially with the news that spread like wild fire yesterday.

Karin snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Don't space out on me now, Toushirou."

His eyebrow twitched. "I was not. And it's _Hitsugaya-taichou._"

The woman snorted at him, "if you say so_._"

He grunted.

"Well," she went on to say, her back already turned to him as she walked, hand lifting in a backward wave - "if there's nothing you need me to say to Ukitake-taichou, I'm going. Still got things to do."

For a very, very long two seconds, he said nothing as he watched her.

Then he spoke.

"Karin."

She paused in her steps.

Not Kurosaki. Karin._ Karin_.

When was the last time he had called her that?

He groped for words, but came up with nothing. There were a lot of things he wanted to know. Such as how she was feeling. If she was alright. If she was dealing with her _amnesiac_ _brother _just fine. If she was okay about _Yuzu_. If, if, if.

He wondered if she had forgiven him.

Karin sighed. Her shoulders sagged. Marginally.

Toushirou honestly had no idea what that body language meant.

She turned, again, dark grey eyes and poker-like face meeting his; and crossed her arms, staring back at him. "Well?" She was phrasing it like it was a challenge.

He forced himself to hold down the grimace that was threatening to form.

"I don't have all day, Toushirou," she told him, and her words were quiet. Soft. Almost kind, even. It was such a contrast to the unreadable, calm look sketched onto her features. "And I don't think you do, either."

He exhaled, and for just that moment, did not feel the instinctive response of _Hitsugaya-taichou_ coming out from his mouth.

"Will you be okay?"

She looked mildly surprised by the question.

That wasn't quite the words he expected to say, though it was part of what he wanted to know.

Hell, she was rubbing off him with her bluntness.

Karin lifted a brow. "Exactly who do you think you are talking to, Toushirou?" she asked dryly, as if the answer should be obvious. And it should be, because despite everything, she was _Kurosaki Karin_.

But that wasn't _quite_ an answer to his question, either.

He eyed her critically, silent.

And he didn't know what he did to irk her, but clearly, he _somehow_ did so, and it was apparent when Karin's gaze narrowed, eyes now a hue of grey that was dark enough that they seemed black.

"Will you - " she cut herself off, then scowled irritably. "Stop giving me that look."

He frowned. "That look?"

She gestured wildly in the air with one hand. "_That look_."

He just sort of stared at her with knitted brows and confusion.

Karin rubbed at her face in frustration, eyes closing momentarily, and sighed.

"I'm really, really not in the mood for this," she said, and the irritation in her voice was replaced by something world weary and bittersweet.

He could feel another scowl forming already. What mood _what_?

Then her dark grey eyes was directed back at him, again; and her voice was low and even. "For once - for _once_, will you just knock it off?"

He could feel his throat turning dry even as his frown deepened. "What the hell are you talking about, Kurosaki?"

"Me?" The black-haired woman shook her head, laughed a little, and looked at him like she found this entire debacle funny. It made him want to bristle, for some reason. "No, Toushirou, _you_. Will you ever stop giving me that _damned guilty look_?"

His grip on the brush tightened.

"What - "

"Don't you_ dare _act dumb _in front of me._"

Her calm words felt like a cold whiplash that made him go still.

Silence reigned.

Karin's expression, to him, looked like it was a combination of something soft and sad and _disappointed_.

It made him feel like he had failed her _again_.

"I've said this before," she said, her voice quiet but clear, "and I'll say this one more time."

Toushirou felt ice drape over him.

He knew he wasn't going to like what she was going to say next.

"What happened to Yuzu, it wasn't your fault."

He could feel his shoulders tense; the grip on the brush tightened further. "She's my subordinate," he felt the need to say. "My _responsibility._"

"And it doesn't change anything," was Karin's even response. "What happened has happened. Quite frankly, my sister is not a helpless damsel in distress. As her captain, _Hitsugaya-taichou_, are you telling me she has entirely no ability to protect herself?"

That question stung.

"I didn't say that," he growled. And more to the point, she wouldn't have been promoted to the _fifth seat_ in such a short span of time if she had no abilities to speak of.

"There we go, then."

"That changes nothing," he bit out, then stopped short when he realized he had echoed _her_ _words_.

For two heart beats, she said nothing.

And it felt like an _eternity_.

Karin's eyes closed momentarily, before she let out a sigh.

"I am not going to argue with you about this again," she said, her words a cross between muted weariness and resignation, and something twisted low in his gut at the finality in her soft tone. "I don't blame you for what happened to Yuzu, but that just isn't ever going to be enough for you, is it, Toushirou?"

_No._

He didn't even need to say it - the look on Karin's face told him she _knew_.

This time, the sigh that she exhaled was slow, and long.

And why did it make him feel as if he had just made something _tear_ at its seams _again_?

"Well," she said after a moment, then paused as if she was considering what she was going to say next.

It made him tense.

When Karin _felt_ the need to think if she wanted to say something, it meant that whatever she intended to say would _hurt_, and it wouldn't be just a prickle or a sting in the skin. It'd be so much more than that. So, so much more; like a twisting stab to the gut, and it'd _rip right into him _-

And from the completely and utterly _calm_ look on her face, she could tell that he knew what was coming.

"I," she went on to say, voice betraying nothing; and her eyes were piercing into him with something _burning_ deep in the depths of her gaze - "will _admit_ that I do blame you for what is left of our friendship, just because you couldn't get over yourself."

The brush in his hand _snapped into two_.

Dark grey eyes glanced over at his hand, slowly and deliberately, before returning to look at him.

He could feel the broken wood stabbing into his palm.

"Hit a nerve, didn't I?" was the soft, murmured question.

He didn't respond.

It was another long moment before Karin did speak, again.

"I still have work to do," she said, tone quiet and unreadable. "Have a good day, Hitsugaya-taichou."

And she left, door sliding shut behind her with a soft, definite _click_.

It was a few more minutes before he no longer sensed her presence within the vicinity of the Tenth Division.

In the dead silence of his office, Toushirou slammed his hand - that held the broken brush - against the table hard enough to make his skin _burn_;and _crack_, the furniture went -

His curled fist was tight enough that it drew blood.

_.. .. .._

How, she wondered, should she break the news to him?

Rukia observed the little boy who was sitting by the edge of the wooden floor; legs dangling idly in what she supposed were caused by apparent boredom, eyes staring up at the sky.

Would he take the news well, or badly?

But, she supposed, given the attachment he already had to Karin - not to mention he had been staying close to Yuzu (like now) when Karin had to go, and Rukia had not been there - he might take it in a good way.

She took in a deep breath and stepped forward carefully.

"Ichigo."

He startled and turned his head; now staring at her.

It was interesting to see the array of emotions that was sketched onto his face; while the older version of Ichigo was at least able to suppress it to some degree (which really wasn't even much), this one could not at all.

Surprise, elation, then panic, then nervousness, then _hurt_, wariness, and then...shuttered.

Rukia knew he was still bothered by the conversation she had with Byakuya.

It was something that made her both amused and bemused, for many reasons.

"Ichigo," she repeated when he just stared wordlessly, and gestured at the empty spot beside him. "Can I sit?"

He seemed to hesitate, and for a split second, Rukia wondered if he was going to say no.

But then he nodded.

"...Okay."

She felt the tension she didn't realize she was feeling uncoil. Just a little.

"Thank you," she murmured, took in another deep breath, and sat.

_._

_-Part V End-_

_._

_._

A/N: Mm, yes, Toushirou's in the story. Yuzu, too, will eventually have her role. Common fanon trend seems to dictate she'd be a healer or something like that, but c'mon! She's a _Kurosaki_, and it's far more likely that there's something very lethal underneath that sweet exterior. That's my logic and I'm sticking to it.

On the note of Shirayuki - I went around googling for how she'd look like in the anime. And now, I'm sorry to say, that I'll not be referencing her looks (or possible personality, for if there is, it will be mere coincidence as I didn't watch the Bounto arc). It's really mainly because her appearance doesn't particularly appeal to me.

Please do keep the speculations coming - I must admit it's a guilty pleasure of mine to see the gears moving in the readers' brains. Nonetheless, I hope the story's been entertaining so far - despite the sporadic and random updates (sorry!) - and reviews are always encouraging.

Cheers.


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